A Fair Price For A Crown
by falconfile
Summary: Over the years, Death had visited the Habsburg court more times than he could count. Few people ever noticed him there. One evening, however, his presence causes unexpected consequences.
1. Part I

I

Death shifted a tray of wine glasses in his hands and snuck a glance at the palace courtyard. Outside, everything was blanketed by the first snow of the season and although it was dark, the snow glimmered wherever the light spilled out from the palace windows onto the fresh, powdery snowflakes below. It was the image from a thousand postcards. To Death, it signalled the end of another year.

In the history books, this past year, 1887, would rarely inspire a comment. Most people in Europe would remember it as the year when they celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of Queen Victoria's reign and the year the construction of the Eiffel Tower began. The coming year would prove more interesting for Europe that the previous, Death knew that well. Kaiser Wilhelm I was due to dance with death one last time, Jack the Ripper would rampage through Whitechapel and Nietzsche would write 'The Antichrist'. Of course, 1889 would be something else entirely, bringing with it death and a birth that would set Europe on such a course that the entire world would tremble.

However, as the Habsburg family gathered in the drafty hall of the Hofburg Palace on Christmas Eve, few of them had any inkling of the noose tightening around their Empire. When Death stepped into the large audience chamber, he saw that the family had already finished dinner and most of them were already there, talking quietly as they waited for the stragglers. As per custom, the men of the Habsburg family wore stiff military uniforms, which seemed at odds with the intimacy and the festive air of the occasion. Certainly, the topic of their conversation was hardly about regiment formations and logistics of troop supply. Their attention was on the chubby child in Franz Josef's arms. No one could suppress a smile at the boy stretched his clammy hand and pulled sharply on the emperor's beard.

'Shall I take him, sir?' asked the young man to the left of the emperor.

Death, who was playing the part of a palace servant for the night, did not recognise the speaker by voice. He leaned forward so that he could have a better view of the group around the Emperor. Otto, the twenty-two-year-old nephew of the Emperor, was already reaching for his son. Franz Josef shifted the child in his arms, turning somewhat to the younger man and answered:

'Karl is hardly the first in the family to have a fondness for my beard; in fact, Erzsi once took a handful with her. Do you remember, Rudolf?'

Rudolf, as Death was quick to note, stood at the edge of the room with his older sister, Gisela, rather than with the main group. They appeared to be content with their own quiet discussion and Rudolf's face fell the moment Rudolf heard his father address him.

'I would certainly advise Otto to refrain from a beard until all your children have grown through this stage,' replied Rudolf and noting the way Gisela shook her head, he added. 'Of course, long hair of the mother suffers far more indignity than the beard of the father.'

Death realised that no servant would stand in the middle of the room and listen to the conversations of royalty unless he wished to be thrown out of the palace within the hour. He turned his back to the main group, while they continued to dispense parenting advice to the first-time father, and offered wine to the rest of the gathered. These were mostly wives and unmarried youth, all with a wealth of gossip to exchange. When Death reached Rudolf and Gisela, she lifted a glass off the tray with hardly a glance at him, but Rudolf caught his eye and stared at Death for a long moment. Death cocked his head, uncertain whether the crown prince had recognised him or not. In the end, Rudolf turned away without acknowledging Death in any way.

'I think it is time I looked for Erzsi and Stephanie,' said Rudolf to Gisela.

'They are with Valerie,' answered Gisela. 'Wait for them here.'

'Is that so? All the same, I ought to rescue my daughter.'

Rudolf was spared the need to mount a heroic rescue, because at that moment his wife, Stephanie, stepped into the room, holding her daughter by the hand. It appeared to be an attempt to curtail the girl's over-enthusiasm; Erzsi looked ready to dash over to the Christmas tree at the other end of the room and tear into the presents beneath.

Rudolf's younger sister, Marie-Valerie, was right behind Stephanie, but her demeanour was the antithesis of Erzsi's. She was nineteen now, a grown woman, but she had never grown out of her shyness. She walked with a slouch and always looked about with wide, uneasy eyes as if she waited for some attacker to spring out of the shadows. Death had to shake his head. Elisabeth's almost excessive fondness for her youngest child had brought out open resentment from her other children and served only to embarrass Marie-Valerie. Even here, surrounded by her family, she crept toward her father.

'Mama is dreadfully tired this evening,' Marie-Valerie said softly. Her gaze jumped from one military clad relative to another. 'She bids us to continue without her and will rejoin us at Mass.'

'Thank-you, Valerie,' replied the emperor.

Death caught himself in a frozen stupor once more. Evidently, he made a terrible servant. It was simply too entertaining to observe the interactions of this large, exorbitant family. If one watched carefully, one could catch flashes of personal insecurities, hurt feelings and the rare, smug moments of triumph. Even now, while Death made a conscious effort to appear as if he was working, his attention remained on Rudolf and Gisela's vicious glares at Marie-Valerie and Stephanie's pointed glower in reply.

If the others in the room noticed the behaviour of the emperor's children, they were wise enough not to comment on it, but Death doubted that anyone had. The conversation grew louder and laughter more high-pitched. The young Karl von Habsburg held the attention of most of the family, even as he was finally placed back into his father's arms. Erzsi, however, was not prepared to be upstaged by a drooling infant. She wrestled herself out of Stephanie's grasp and ran over to her father, who instinctively lifted her into his arms.

'What is it?' he smiled.

'Can we open the presents now?' said Erzsi. 'Please?'

'Father?' said Rudolf.

Conversation in the room quietened and the gathered family waited for the emperor's reply. Franz-Josef motioned towards the well-decorated Christmas tree behind Rudolf and Gisela, underneath which was a formidable number of wrapped gifts.

'Most certainly, Erzsi,' said the emperor.


	2. Part II

Author's note: I forgot to put this in the first chapter so I'll add this now. This story was largely inspired by the lyrics of 'Alle Fragen Sind Gestellt' and my recent visit to Vienna (an amazing city, I'd encourage everyone to visit at least once if they can).

I cannot promise that anything I've written is historically accurate, because my only source was Wikipedia and the quality of information there is always dubious. I also have to acknowledge that I borrowed the idea that Rudolf passed an STI to his wife from Dornhelm's 2006 film 'Crown Prince Rudolph'.

Last thing, a word of warning about this chapter, there is some foul language in this.

II

The end of Mass signalled the end of the night for most of the family. The lights in the palace were extinguished and the halls quietened until the sound of rat-catchers scrambling after their pray was the loudest sound to be heard. Otto, however, was wide-awake and felt the company of his older brother was preferable to Otto's cold, badly furnished bedroom, even if Franz Ferdinand was in a poor mood. He had apparently left behind his watch somewhere during the night.

When the two brothers returned to the large audience room where the family had unwrapped presents some hours before, they realised that they were not the only people in the palace who were still awake. Crown Prince Rudolf had stretched himself on a large couch closest to the windows and now stared up at the decorated ceiling. A few steps away a servant was in the middle of pouring Rudolf a glass of brandy. Otto guessed that it was far from the first; there was not much left of the bottle. When the servant handed the glass to the crown prince, Rudolf did not bother to sit himself up. He drunk the brandy so fast Otto feared that he would choke.

'Good evening, Rudolf,' said Otto after a moment and grimaced. It felt inappropriate to refer to the crown prince by his first name even in a private conversation, the difference in age and rank seemed too great. 'Franz Ferdinand thought he might have left his watch here.'

Rudolf turned his head to look at Franz Ferdinand, who still stood in the doorway. He pushed himself upright and replied with a slight slur that revealed his intoxication:

'There's nothing out of place here that I can see.'

'If I may verify?'

Franz Ferdinand did not wait for Rudolf's reply. He moved past Otto and began searching the room. Every step was sharp and precise. He had always had the stride of a soldier, even as a boy. Rudolf, in the meanwhile, straightened his clothes in a futile attempt to make himself look presentable. Otto thought it strange that although Rudolf was both older and of higher rank than Franz Ferdinand, he watched Franz Ferdinand's movements with obvious weariness.

'Care for a drink?' asked Rudolf.

'There is only one glass,' responded Franz Ferdinand.

He lifted a jacket off the card table. It was probably Rudolf's, as he wore only a shirt. After he made sure that there was nothing underneath, Franz Ferdinand flung the jacket at Rudolf, although he fell short and the jacket landed at Rudolf's feet instead.

Rudolf bit his lip as he moved the jacket from the floor to the armrest of the couch he sat on. Otto could see that Rudolf wanted nothing more than to order them to leave. Otto understood Rudolf well enough. Franz Ferdinand was a difficult man to like. Cold and uninterested in fellow man, Franz Ferdinand made no effort to make himself more amicable.

Otto wished that Franz Ferdinand would have manners enough to engage in some small talk, but Otto's older brother continued to search the room in stubborn silence. In the meanwhile, Rudolf motioned for the servant to refill his glass. He drank this one no slower than the previous.

'So you don't want a drink?' asked Rudolf.

'We can send the servant for another glass, Franz,' said Otto.

Franz Ferdinand's eyes narrowed with suspicion and he motioned for the servant to come near. The man was a brave one or maybe new, he did not look automatically guilty as many others did upon an order from a member of the royal family. He was tall too; he looked Franz Ferdinand straight in the eyes while the prince spoke:

'Did you perhaps see my watch tonight, servant?'

'He is not a servant,' responded Rudolf. 'He is a... an old friend.'

The man gave Rudolf a strange look, which made the crown prince burst into laughter. It struck Otto that he could not recount the last time he had heard Rudolf laugh so freely. Suddenly, the crown prince seemed much younger, but it suited him.

'I recognised you from the first moment! But I thought to myself, you enjoy playing games with me, I want to turn the tables,' said Rudolf to his friend and then turned to Otto. 'My friend here enjoys mystery and suspense above all else. He can be one creature in the morning and another at night. But he's been a good friend to me.'

'A pleasure to meet you, sir,' said Otto and stepped between the man and Franz Ferdinand just as his brother was about to speak. 'Might we enquire as to your name?'

'Ludwig,' replied the man.

Up close, he did not look much like a servant despite the uniform. Ludwig carried himself differently to the Habsburgs, who tended to march through life like soldiers, but his bearing suggested an aristocratic background nevertheless. His facial features were refined, although the lips were slightly too full and feminine. Ludwig's gaze, however, was sharp and unforgiving. With his eyes, he seemed to pierce through all human defences and stare right into the soul. Otto could not suffer it, his hands began to shake and he wanted to turn away.

'Prinze Otto Franz von Habsburg. This is my older brother, Prince Franz Ferdinand. We are cousins to the crown prince,' he said with a quivering voice.

'As he is no doubt aware,' muttered Franz Ferdinand and then continued more clearly. 'My watch is not here. We should leave Rudolf alone; he wishes to drown himself in alcohol on his own terms.'

'Did I ask for your commentary?' replied Rudolf. He motioned for Ludwig to pour him another drink and Otto found himself sighing with relief when Ludwig moved away from him.

'What is it with you? Did the emperor banish you from Vienna again? It is no wonder. Or is the prospect of sharing a bed with Stephanie so frightening you dare not face her sober?'

'And your brother is so terrified of his wife, even drinking doesn't help!' replied Rudolf.

Otto felt his cheeks begin to burn. It was blatantly untrue, but he had no suitable response to Rudolf's mocking and Franz Ferdinand offered no words in his brother's defence. In any case, Rudolf did not expect any. He pushed himself off the couch and walked over to Ludwig. Otto could not believe that Rudolf was able to converse with them as clearly as he had. He stumbled every other step and groaned with every movement, it was almost a relief to see Rudolf reach his destination. He rested one hand on Ludwig's shoulder for support and with the other pulled the bottle of brandy out of Ludwig's hand.

'It was a joke, Otto,' muttered Rudolf. 'It's not a crime to hate your wife. Don't you agree, Ludwig?'

'I am unmarried, so it is not my place to say one way or another.'

'Enough. Ludwig, take the crown prince to bed before he stumbles across some chair and cracks his head open. This is a palace, not a common tavern,' said Franz Ferdinand. 'No one wants to look at a drunkard.'

'So leave! Just leave!' Rudolf snapped.

'Gladly,' answered Franz Ferdinand. 'Come, Otto!'

Otto watched Ludwig guide Rudolf into a chair by the card table. Ludwig's long hair had fallen forward while he was helping Rudolf and now hid most of his face, Otto had no way of guessing the man's plans. For Otto there were only three certainties about the situation: Ludwig had made no attempt to wrestle the bottle away from Rudolf, the crown prince had already drunk more than enough and Otto had no reason to trust Ludwig.

'Go ahead,' said Otto to his brother.

Franz Ferdinand shook his head and said:

'Merry Christmas to you all.'

He turned his back to the rest of the people in the room and left. His steps were sharp and heavy. In the empty, darkened palace they seemed to echo for hours. Otto found himself longing to follow his brother after all; sleep would be far easier than trying to deal with his drunken cousin and his strange friend. It had been a long evening already, full of stiff pauses and forced pleasantries. Still, some nagging part of his conscience compelled Otto to stay.

'Who is your friend really?' he asked. He moved closer to Ludwig and Rudolf so that they could converse more easily, but stayed out of Ludwig's reach.

'I am an old friend, you need to know nothing more,' responded Ludwig.

Rudolf rested his elbows on the card table and took a large swig from the bottle. His every action was too large and he struggled to focus on the space before him, it was the very image of a man losing all control over himself. Otto turned to Ludwig:

'Will you do nothing?'

His question was met with silence. Otto gritted his teeth; this Ludwig was far too presumptuous.

'At least tell me what drove my cousin to this state,' he pressed.

'Your cousin is still here,' answered Rudolf. 'And you want to know what happened to him? The pathetic, whining cousin Rudolf? His little shit of a sister happened.'

Rudolf raised the bottle to his mouth once more, but Otto grabbed his arm before Rudolf could take a sip. Still holding onto Rudolf, Otto sat himself down beside Rudolf. Behind the crown prince, he saw Ludwig cock his head in surprise. Otto wondered if this was supposed to be the moment Ludwig sat down next to Rudolf and pressed the crown prince for answers. Well, he would have to content to be a bystander for the night. Otto pulled the bottle out of Rudolf's hand and set it on the table.

'What has Marie-Valerie done?' he asked. Otto knew that Rudolf had to have been referring to his younger sister, Rudolf and Gisela never quarrelled.

'She is in love,' said Rudolf. 'Some nothing of a nobody. Except, of course, she gets to marry him. Gisela and I were practically born married to the empire. The goddamned empire and the all the crud that accompanies it... But she is _special_. To the pits of Hell with her, with all of this...'

Otto was sure that Rudolf could have continued with this trail of thought for some time, but Otto had heard enough. He said:

'This is why we have mistresses. Besides, chances are, Marie-Valerie and her husband will come to hate each other just like the rest of us.'

Ludwig laughed, but Rudolf found no mirth in this. He reached out for the bottle and Otto had to pull it away from him. Rudolf's eyes narrowed as he demanded Otto give back the brandy, except Otto did not find a drunken, half-lucid Rudolf especially intimidating.

'You have had enough,' said Otto.

'Hand it back,' responded Rudolf. He pulled himself out of his chair and leaned over the table in a hopeless attempt to reach Otto's hand. 'Don't you dare, you goddamned – '

'Just hand it back to him,' said Ludwig.

Otto looked at the man and clenched his teeth. His instinct told him that Rudolf needed to stay away from alcohol, preferably forever, but Ludwig sounded very authoritative. But then, he had said that he was an old friend, so he had probably found himself in such situations before and knew the best way to handle Rudolf. Against his better instincts, Otto placed the bottle back on the table. Rudolf grabbed the bottle and poured the rest of the brandy down his throat as if it was water.

'That is the way to do it, isn't it? Wonderful,' groaned Otto. 'You need to get yourself to bed, Rudolf. When you sober up tomorrow, you should go and have some fun. It will make you feel better.'

In reply, Rudolf just laughed, but it was not like earlier. This was a shrill and high-pitched laugh of a manic aware of the questionable state of his mind. Ludwig leaned over Rudolf and lifted he now empty bottle out of the crown prince's hands.

'You are frightening your cousin,' said Ludwig.

'Don't talk to me as if I am a child,' Rudolf replied and then turned to look directly at Otto. 'Now, sweet little Otto Franz...how did the rest of your name go? No matter. You think you have grown up, Otto. A man with a wife, a child a moustache and a mistress. You know nothing.'

'What am I supposed to know?'

'Will you tell anyone?' asked Rudolf.

'No, not if you wish you keep it private,' answered Otto, frowning. Earlier in the evening, he had been hesitant to address the crown prince directly, now he was about to become his confidant. Otto was not sure how he found himself in this position. 'What is it? You can tell me.'

Rudolf said nothing for a long while; instead, he clumsily drummed his fingers against the card table. It seemed like half an eternity until Rudolf sighed and spoke:

'I've had my fun. Too much fun, that is clear now. One night I received a little gift from one of my mistresses, which I then shared with my wife. It's a fun, little infection that can make a woman barren. It has made my _wife_ barren.'

Otto stared at Rudolf for a long moment, trying to take in what he had just heard. Rudolf had only one child and that was his daughter, Erzsi. She was a sweet enough child, but the Habsburg succession law demanded a son from Rudolf and Rudolf had no means of escaping his marriage to Stephanie while they both lived. The Catholic Church would not permit a divorce. It was an unfortunate situation for Rudolf's family, but it also spelled disaster for the Habsburg dynasty and its empire.

'I am sorry,' Otto said reflexively, but Rudolf did not seem to hear anyway.

'What am I supposed to tell my father? And what am I to do with a barren wife?' Rudolf continued. 'Had a married someone I could actually tolerate, I wouldn't have needed a mistress. There would have been a son. Franz... Ludwig.'

'That is a nice name,' said Otto, but he wondered about the inspiration. Had it been their recently drowned Bavarian cousin or the mysterious friend who refused to answer any questions? Otto did not know which explanation he found more troubling.

'I need a drink,' said Rudolf. 'There's a bottle in my study, I think. Yes.'

He pushed himself up by gripping onto the edge of the table and headed towards the door. Otto rose too, he intended to grab onto Rudolf before he moved far, but found himself being pulled backwards instead. He felt Ludwig's arm tight around his throat; the man's skin felt cold even through the fabric of his sleeve. At that moment Otto felt like a child, Ludwig was taller and stronger, and Otto could do little against the man's strength. His attempts to struggle out of Ludwig's grasp were futile. He simply had to watch Rudolf stumble out of the room and into the darkness of the corridor.

'You cannot help him,' said Ludwig as he loosened his grip on Otto. 'He needs to be alone tonight.'

'He is inebriated, he needs someone to make sure that he does not hurt himself. I should go after him.'

Ludwig released Otto entirely, but placed himself in front of Otto so that he now stood between Otto and the doorway. Otto wanted simply to push past the man, except he found himself hesitating. In fact, his whole body shook slightly. Otto felt goose bumps creep up his back to the base of his neck and his hands trembled.

'Are you not well?' asked Ludwig with any real concern. 'You look very white all of a sudden.'

'Let me through!' said Otto.

His vision was turning to pure white light and his feet were weak, as if hollow. In desperation, he pushed past Ludwig and rushed out of the room. His knees felt like soft wool and hands were growing numb, but he did not pay attention to that. He needed to get away from this Ludwig, or whoever he was. And he needed to find Rudolf.


	3. Part III

III

The universe bellowed. Death wanted to tear out his ears, there were hundreds of speakers and each one howled at him through a loud speaker. All the familiar truths were crumbling and the well-rehearsed speeches that had once defined the course of history were a shrill scream. He had no means of stopping it. The sound itself was pain. He found himself gasping, unable to draw enough air, and stumbling towards the nearest couch. He never made it there, but slumped to floor in defeat and let his head fall between his knees.

Then, for a moment, there was silence. The world had gone dark and his vision was hazy, as if he now stood at the end of a long tunnel and peered into the distance, trying to make sense of the world far on the other side. Death started to pull himself up right, only to find that his relief was short lived.

This new cacophony was no less terrifying. The sum of a new world spun past him; Death's eyes struggled to follow the flicker of figures and places that danced about him. This was not some exotic creation of an over-active imagination, but largely a future that Death had known before and yet, it was utterly wrong. He shook his head at disbelief at the image of Otto and Rudolf walking along a Parisian boulevard, at Franz Ferdinand holding his granddaughter, at Gavrilo Princip smoking a cigar on a side street in Chicago.

He did not know how long it took the chaos to abate. Death had no desire to move, he was light-headed and nausea threatened to overtake him. There was no chance to analyse the wealth of information he had just seen, but as Death saw it, there was little need. From what he had seen, this future was twisted, decadent and all together putrid.

For the most part, the thread of human history was as flexible as death was permanent. A myriad of changes and minor manipulations passed unobserved every day. There were, however, rare moments that tolerated no hint of alteration. This, evidently, had been one of them. Death knew the moment of divergence; he even knew the cause – himself. It had all begun to unwind the moment Rudolf turned and introduced Death to Otto. The prince should have left with his brother and Rudolf should have spent his night without any further interruptions, but Death's presence had compelled Otto to stay. Now, he was too involved and unable to turn away without trying to help his cousin.

Death sighed. In coming to Rudolf's aid, Otto could rouse him out of his misery and prevent Rudolf's murder-suicide in Mayerling. Death was tempted to let Otto do as the young man wanted, he had always been fond of Rudolf, but unfortunately, Rudolf's survival would twist the future entirely.

It would be a strange world where Germany turns to Communism, the United States becomes a formidable colonial power and where the Habsburg Empire survives to the second half of the Twentieth Century, but ends in a bloodbath to rival the French Revolution. Self-determination and decolonisation would be replaced by racism, fascism and eugenics. If someone had asked Death an hour ago to imagine a Twentieth Century more putrid than the one the world was happily rushing towards, he would have been unable and yet, there is was.

'I cannot let this come to pass,' he muttered. 'I am sorry, Rudolf, Elisabeth.'

Death groaned as he rose to his feet, but he had no time to lose to moaning. Without bothering to straighten his clothes, he raced after Otto. He was easy to find, in the dark and empty palace, Otto's footsteps were like thunder. Death caught up to Otto just in time, the prince was metres from the doorway to Rudolf's apartments.

Death grasped Otto by the right shoulder pulled the man backwards, away from Rudolf's apartments.

'Let me go!' snapped Otto.

'Your rooms, Otto. Take me there and I will not harm you,' said Death.

Otto gritted his teeth, pointed towards the stairs to the left of them. Death pushed Otto towards the stairs, never relaxing his grip on the young man. At the bottom of the stairs, Otto motioned towards an ached passageway behind the stairs.

They proceeded in this manner through the older, labyrinthine parts of the Hofburg complex, until they reached an inconspicuous wooden door. Otto took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. Just as the door swung open, Death pushed Otto through the doorway with such force that he landed on the floor.

'Leave me alone!' yelled Otto as he picked himself up off the floor. 'Get out of my rooms.'

The fire was nearly extinguished, it had been at least an hour since anyone attended to the fireplace and the room was filled with flickering shadows. Death doubted that Otto could see much. He, on the other hand, could make out Otto's wide eyes and slightly opened mouth as he seized the prince once more and pushed him against the wall. It was a very vulnerable position for Otto; Death already had a hand pressed against Otto's throat. He could end it all now. He could simply reach in and give Otto a soft kiss. The prince would barely notice.

'Don't give me orders, Otto. And stop your yelling,' said Death, he released the grip on Otto's throat. 'We need to talk.'

'We have nothing to discuss.'

'Quite on the contrary. Earlier on, you were desperate to know who I am and I believe it is well past time I told you. I usually recite a nice monologue here, but I do not have the patience today,' said Death. 'You should have questioned not who I am but what I am. In most simple terms the truth is, I am Death.'

'What is this nonsense? I am not Rudolf, I do not care for your games,' said Otto.

'I am no human and you know this. Doesn't your hair stand upright at the back of your neck? Don't you wish that you could turn your back to me and flee as far away as you possibly can? Except you are too frightened to turn away,' Death said and watched Otto's frozen face grow paler. 'There is no shame in it. Men rarely make friends with their own mortality.'

'You are a lunatic,' muttered Otto. His voice was no louder than a whisper.

'Are you certain?'

Death stepped closer to Otto and pressed himself against the prince's torso. If possible, Otto's eyes grew wider. Death reached out and slid his hand down Otto's cheek and towards the prince's stiff collar. Standing so close to Otto, Death could count the racing beats of the man's heart and smell the sweat glistening on Otto's brows.

'Stop. Please, sir...stop.'

Death pulled back to give Otto some space to breathe and answered:

'There is no need to call me sir. There is only one thing you can do for me.'

'Anything,' replied Otto. Even as he spoke, he appeared to be trying to press himself deeper into the wall.'

'Do not go near Rudolf's rooms.'

'Is Rudolf to die?'

'All men must die, but not tonight.'

At these words, something in Otto's mind released and he seized his attempts to resist. Death released his grip. He moved further away and waited while the prince composed himself. In truth, he also needed time to think. He had stopped Otto for the moment, but there was nothing to stop Otto's interference in the future and Death could not watch him day and night. Something more drastic is required. Unfortunately, Death had little clue about how he should proceed.

'The truth of the matter is that Rudolf has been troubled for a long time. For a man such as him, the end of his life will be a release from suffering. There are times when it is kinder to let a person go,' said Death.

'When will you to take him?' asked Otto.

'Are you interested in the date?' responded Death.

Otto shook his head and a silence fell between them. Death watched Otto search for a handkerchief in his jacket. Otto appeared to calm once he wiped the sweat off his face. Of course, a Habsburg did not dare to look like a vagabond even when chatting with Death in the middle of the night – that would be a sign of weakness.

'Do you wish me to leave my cousin to his misery?' said Otto. 'That would be unconscionable. Either take him now or allow him a shred of happiness while he still walks this earth.'

Death had to smother his grin. Perhaps this was why Death was so fond of this family, despite their stubbornness and utter inability to see the world in front of them for what it was. Only a moment ago Otto had been a quivering mess and now he demanded Death to find a conscience. That kind of brazen attitude was rare to find.

'You might find me callous, Otto. However, I do my work only because I must and there is no pleasure in it for me,' said Death. 'There are rare times when I become distracted and interact with humans, even befriend them. Rudolf was one such person. I have been a friend to Rudolf since he was a young child and frankly, I know him better than anyone else does. If there was any there choice, I would not do this.'

'No, of course not,' replied Otto. His scepticism was palpable.

Otto pushed himself away from the wall and careful never to turn his back to Death, made his way around the room. One by one he lit the lamps in the room and revealed an utterly unremarkable space furnished from the palace inventory. The few things that belonged to Otto were standard army issue, dedicated to function and devoid of personality. There was, however, a small photo frame of Otto holding his infant son standing on an end table. Death could see traces of Otto's fingerprints on the glass; he must have handled the photo frame very often.

'You have been guiding him to his doom since he was a child,' said Otto.

'I guided him towards nothing. Rudolf is the product of his family and his upbringing. A lonely and tortured childhood created a tortured and lonely man you now see, even my friendship did little to mitigate the damage,' replied Death. 'For what it is worth, he will not die alone.'

'Will it be an assassination?'

Now that Otto had the comfort of light in the room, he positioned himself tactically behind a couch and well out of Death's reach. In response, Death sat himself down behind the small writing desk in the room. Although that now put another piece of furniture between them, Death had also taken Otto's chair and in doing so, silently proclaimed himself the master of the house. Death waited for Otto to respond to the provocation, but the man just fiddled with the buttons of his jacket.

'So, yes, it is an assassination?' pressed Otto.

'Something of that kind.'

'Do not talk nonsense, it is either an assassination or it is not,' said Otto, largely thinking aloud. 'Although the way he looked tonight, I would have thought a suicide would be the way he would choose to go. It just seems right.'

'That is – '

'No. I can see the answer on your face. So Rudolf will kill himself,' Otto concluded and shook his head as if he was still trying to deny what he now knew. 'I will pray for his soul.'

Death had to stifle half a dozen curses. He had had an opportunity there and he had missed it. It should have been a simple lie – Rudolf would find love and be assassinated, end of story. Otto would not have chased him down with a pitchfork for deceiving him. No, Death was too distracted playing mind games with Otto's furniture. Now the little Habsburg knew too much and his bleeding heart would not give him rest.

'A suicide is a wretched this for a family to suffer, there is no question about that, but some will benefit,' said Death, as he searched for a way to remedy the situation. 'Your brother will be the heir presumptive.'

'Am I to let Rudolf kill himself to give my brother the opportunity to become emperor? That is not something I am willing to do.'

Death cocked his head and drummed his fingers against Otto's writing desk. _What would Otto be willing to do?_ Without realising it, Otto had just given Death the solution he had been searching. Everybody could be bought, if the price was right.

'What about your son?' asked Death.

Otto's eyes widened and his face paled, which proved to Death that his instinct was correct. That was no surprise, the fingerprints on the photo frame were evidence enough of Otto's fondness for his son, even if Death had not seen Otto with Karl earlier in the evening. Death smiled at Otto's panicked words:

'Do not... Please, Karl is not even walking yet.'

'I have no interest in your child right now,' replied Death. 'The fact of the matter is this, your brother will never be emperor. Franz Ferdinand and his wife will be assassinated. It will become one of the famous assassinations in history, because it will spark a war between all the major European powers and the outcome of that war will determine the history of the next century.'

Otto had no immediate reply to that piece of information, but his face visibly fell. Death guessed that Otto was one of the few people who genuinely like Franz Ferdinand. Of course, he was probably one of the few who truly knew the man. Sometimes, Death could only pity this family.

'Why are you telling me this? Is this your version of Cassandra's curse? I will know how everyone in my family is to die and unable to change a thing. Even better, I now know that it is only a matter of time until Europe tears itself apart. Lord help us, a war across the entire continent will be the death of us all. Modern warfare is a monstrosity, a meat grinder from the deepest circles of Hell. And where does my son fit into this?' said Otto. 'I am not sure I even want to know.'

Death watched Otto fiddle with the buttons of his jacket, while the prince's eyes were fixed on the floor. Despairing and defenceless as he was at that moment, Death thought that Otto looked very much like Rudolf. Fortunately, unlike with Rudolf, Death knew the exact words that would improve Otto's mood.

'You must consider the facts I have given you and their logical consequences. The emperor will not live forever, his heir apparent will kill himself and your brother, the heir presumptive, will be assassinated. Who precisely would be the next in line for the throne of Austria-Hungary?' said Death. Otto glanced at Death and frowned.

'My son,' muttered Otto.

'That is right.'

Otto shook his head and broke into a smile. 'But that's... wonderful! My son will be emperor; I had never even dared to dream.'

At that moment, Rudolf's plight was forgotten. Otto was clearly overwhelmed. He stared into the distance, still reflexively playing with the buttons of his jacket, and let his mouth hang slightly open. For the father of a future emperor he looked rather wanting. Death, for his part, felt no need to say anything further. Otto's thoughts swept down their own paths and made all the necessary conclusions.

The correction in timelines was mild compared to the raging torrent that had overcome Death earlier. Unknown to Otto, voices swirled around the room and distant vistas flashed before Death's eyes. One by one, the threads readjusted themselves to their earlier positions and Death sighed in relief. It had been that simple with Otto in the end. Habsburg ambition led them from an insignificant domain in Switzerland to a great European empire that encompassed a dozen nations, now it had set history on its proper, if bloody path even as it condemned Rudolf to death. Whether it was a fair price for a crown of Austria-Hungary, Death did not know, that was for the Habsburgs alone to judge.

'It is time for me to leave,' said Death. He rose from his seat. 'Merry Christmas, Otto.'

'Wait,' said Otto.

Death raised his eyebrow. Otto bit his lip and then asked:

'Will he be a good emperor?'

Death struggled to compose an appropriate reply. Emperor Karl I would be become emperor in 1916, at the height of the war, and would reign for only two years before the Austria-Hungary Empire would be dissolved. There would hardly be opportunity for Karl to prove what kind of ruler he was. Otto, of course, did not need to know that his son would die an exile merely six years after becoming emperor. In the end, Death gave him a curt, but honest reply:

'Do not worry about that. In time, the Catholic church will beatify your son as a saint.'


End file.
